Twisted Scars
by rcs17
Summary: Cuts that will never go away. Knife wounds that are too deep to heal. Clary is the orphan with a terrifying past. Jace is the juvenile delinquent whom no one touches unless they want to get hurt. They find each other when they least expect it. Two wounded souls out to mend each other's heart. Rated T for cursing, drugs, smoking, and underage drinking.
1. Breathe In, Breathe Out

**hey guys! This idea just popped into my head a few days ago. i really love these kinds of stories, so I wanted to make one. As some of you may know, I suck at intro chapters so just bear with me. As always, ideas are appreciated. I hope you like it!**

* * *

_"I apologize to myself for living in the future _

_And letting what's ahead get in the way _

_Because if happiness is always down the road _

_Then I'm missing it today" _

_-Breathe In, Breathe Out, _the Afters

**Chapter 1: Breathe in, Breathe Out**.

Jace Lightwood was never one to do what he was told. He was always the bad boy. So when his family asked him to help unpack the moving truck, he went for a walk instead. He had always been like that. Countless foster homes have him up for his many faults. Drugs, smoking, drinking, tattoos. He couldn't care less. He couldn't wait to be free from the bounds that tied him to a family.

After many foster homes, the Lightwoods took care of him. They were heart broken that Jace was ruining himself like this. He often laughed at their half-assed attempts to get him to stop. Jace always thought of them as hypocrites. Isabelle, who was a few months younger than him, was clinically depressed and Alec, who was a few years older, had been banished from the family because of his sexuality. So he didn't care about what they thought, but he was always careful around the little Lightwood, Max. While he didn't care about what his adoptive family thought of him, he still respected them. Unfortunately, Max Lightwood looked up to him for everything. It was more annoying than anything. He couldn't be who he was in front of his adoptive family because of this feeling inside of him that held him back, and he hated it.

So while Jace was on his long walk through the new neighborhood that they had moved to, he lit up a cigarette and stuck the pack back in his pocket. He needed the burning to sharpen his thoughts. He didn't know how long he'd been walking for or where he was going. Jace finally settled down in the roots of a gnarled tree. The wind had picked up slightly, blowing unruly blond curls into his face. He took another puff of his cigarette before tossing it on the ground and stepping on it. The new neighborhood that the Lightwood family had decided to live in was small compared to the mansions that they used to have. The house that they bought was bigger compared to the two-floored houses that lined the streets. The town was in the more rural parts of New York City. Their new school was closer to the urban parts of the city. Jace couldn't help but notice the grunts coming from the backyard of the house in front of him. Something drew him to the sound. He got up and walked steadily towards the fence. He didn't expect to see what he saw.

A short red head with bright green eyes was throwing knifes at a tree in her backyard. Her wavy hair was up in a ponytail and her hands were covered in fingerless gloves. She effortlessly flung the knives into the center of the hand painted target. Jace stared at the knives that were embedded in the thick bark. He was so immersed in the knife, that he didn't notice the knife being thrown right at him. It stuck in the fence right in front of him. "You missed." Jace grinned.

The small girl rolled her leaf green eyes in annoyance. "If I wanted to hit you, I would've, dumbass."

He looped his hand over the fence and unlatched the gate, swinging it open. "I don't doubt it," he said. "I was watching you. You're good."

She turned back to the target. "Oh great," she muttered. "You're a dumbass and a creeper."

"Hey," he said indignantly, a smirk growing on his face. "Is that any way to treat the new guy?" She shrugged delicately. "It's how I treat everyone."

"So you throw knives at everyone and call them 'dumbass'?" Jace asked. "Nope." She threw another knife at the target. "It's how I treat everyone I hate, which is the majority of the population of my school."

"Well, I'll have to watch out for you, Red." She glared at the blond boy with distaste. "I have a name, stupid."

Jace stroked his chin slowly. "Which is...?" She glared at him and flung another knife forward into the tree. "Get lost, asshat," she said.

"Asshat?" He was amused. He checked his beeping phone and said:'"Well, I have to get home. Later, Red."

"We'll see about that, dumbass," she muttered as he left. But while he had a confident smirk plastered to his face, the kept thinking of the red-headed girl. He didn't even reach for his cigarettes once.

* * *

Clary Fray was never one to be messed with. Under her short, fragile appearance lay a tough, badass girl that kept everyone away. Her past was not an everyday bed time story. It held pain, suffering, and death. She tried everything to forget what had happened when she was a child, but emotional and physical scars reminded her constantly that she was broken. A damaged good with no value.

She was seven when her parents died. Her mother was first, desperately trying to hide her little girl from her father. Clary was locked away in her mother's room with her back pressed against the hard wooden bed frame. The screams and shouts filled her shaking body as she heard her parents fight. A loud shriek of pain filled the corridor outside of Jocelyn Fray's room. The door burst open, and in came Clary's mother, clutching her stomach. She looked into her daughter's green eyes as the light left her own and she collapsed to the ground. Clary tried to scream but no sound came out. Valentine stood in the doorway, holding a bloody knife and watching his shaking daughter. Gunshots rang out and Valentine Morgenstern fell to the ground. The sight of his daughter was the last thing that he saw.

It was a blur of family members' homes and adoption papers until Clary settled down with her mother's best friend, Luke. She hadn't moved since then. He had owned an art shop with Jocelyn, but he turned it into a bookstore after she died. Too many memories, he had told Clary. For a while, everything was fine But Clary still had the scars. The ones that were carved into her memory. The breaking glass, the wooden remnants of the broken door. The large ugly scar on her arm from where the wood cut her. She still had nightmares from that night. Every detail was branded into her mind. The light fading out of her mother's eyes, the blood gushing out from her father's gun wounds. Yes, Clary Fray was damaged. She was never the same since September 24, 1998. She had tried to let it go.

But seeing the arrogant blond-headed boy today brought up memories of her past. She didn't know why, but despite what she wanted, she was drown to the boy. Maybe it was because she knew that behind those mischievous golden eyes, lay someone who was scared and alone. Or maybe it was because he seemed just as broken as she was.

* * *

Jace walked in through the doors of his new home. He took in the sight of the scattered cardboard boxes and thought: I'll never get to see it like this. He carefully picked his way through the mess and traveled up the stairs to the room that he had picked out hours before. It wasn't huge, but it was good for Jace. It had a queen sized bed with a simple brown chest of drawers and a desk. Crisp white bed sheets were already tucked into the corners of the bed, just how Jace liked it. _Maryse_, he thought.

He ripped opened his only box and took out the Scotch that rested inside, carefully wrapped in towels and a picture. He lifted up the paper to see his birth father and mother smiling back at him. His smiling four-year-old self was on his father's shoulders. _What would they think of me? _

He shook his head vigorously and took a swig of the Scotch, stripping off his shoes and climbing into the bed in his cigarette scented clothes. He fell asleep with the alcohol in his hand and thoughts of his parents in his mind.

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**Okay I know that was very short. I'll try to make longer chapters. Let me know if I should continue this or not. REVIEW! THANKS FOR READING. **


	2. Waiting for an Answer

**Hey guys! I'm back. Warning, this chapter is a filler chapter. I'll try to get the good stuff started in the next one. I changed Clary's scar from her arm to her wris. It just worked out better that way.(by the way, the Afters are a band. They're really good. Listen to them.)**

** Read and review!**

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_"The tears we cry from all the pain _

_You won't let them go to waste _

_An aching heart will know your face" _

_- Believe(Waiting for an Answer),_ the Afters

**Chapter 2: Waiting for An Answer **

Jace pounded on the bathroom door. "Come on, Iz. You've been in there for hours."

The door clicked open and Isabelle Lightwood walked out. Her long, stick straight black hair hung behind her like a curtain. Her black eyes held anger and annoyance. "I was in there for ten minutes, Jace," she snapped.

He winced and put a hand to his head. "Quiet down, Iz," he said. "Massive hangover."

"Great," she said exasperatedly. "First day of school, and you have a hangover." She pushed her brother in the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. "You have five minutes," she yelled over her shoulder.

Jace ran the cold water over his head. The pain subsided, but didn't go away. He shrugged on a T-shirt and jeans and stepped out of the bathroom. He walked back to his room and grabbed his backpack. He hesitated a second before taking the family ring from his dresser and slipping it on his finger.

* * *

Clary walked down the dusty street with her olive green messenger bag slung across her chest. Bracelets clicked rhythmically on her right wrist. A thick brown one covered the scar on her left wrist. It was ugly, but Simon gave it to her and it covered her scar nicely, so she wore it everyday. Her jean jacket moved ever so slightly as she walked. Her long jeans covered her brown heeled boots and her headphones were in her ears. She was bobbing her head to the Doors as her school loomed up in front of her.

St. Xavier's hadn't changed over the summer. The bricks were the same musty brown that Clary was sure were supposed to be white. She climbed up the steps without haste and entered the school. Simon Lewis was leaning against the lockers, talking to their friend, Maia Roberts. His chestnut hair covered his glasses partially. He kept saying that he was going to get contacts, but constantly put it off. Clary and Maia kept teasing him about it. "Hey, Bitch," said Maia as Clary approached them.

"Whore," she responded lightly, giving her best friends a one armed hug. Maia was wearing a light caramel colored jacket and her tightly curled hair was into two braids. "Senior year's going to be a bitch," said Clary, sticking her thumbs in her pockets.

"Speak for yourself." Maia smirked and hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulder. "I'm a junior." Simon slung an arm around Maia's neck. "Well, what're you going to do next year when we're not here to entertain you?"

Clary had met Maia when they had both worked at Java Jones, a little café with coffee that tasted like tar. They had been best friends since they shared their first shift. Maia shrugged. Her lips curved into a smile. "I'll make friends and do the stupid ass things that they do. Who knows? Maybe I'll be on the bitch squad," she said, referring to the squad of populars.

Clary threw her head back, laughing. "Ah, Maia," she mused. "Keep saying stuff like that, and I'll send you to that mental institution in fifty avenue."

"...and you just happen to know where a mental institution is," Simon said thoughtfully. "That's not weird at all." Clary slapped Simon's arm lightly. "Shut it, Lewis."

"Hey, did you guys see the new kids?" Simon asked. Clary stiffened.

"No! Who?" Maia said, clearly interested. "These two kids that moved from Manhattan," he said.

_ Maybe it's another family_. Clary really had no idea why she hated the golden-haired boy. _Maybe it's because he's such an ass_, she thought wryly. "Hey, I have to get to class," said Clary. "See you later." She took out the crumpled schedule out of her bag and walked to English.

A few groups of students were in the room when Clary got there. They sat on the desks, laughing, and in one case, making out in the corner. Clary rolled her eyes and moved to sit by the window. She tilted her head towards the glass to look at her reflection. Wide green eyes, flame colored hair, a smattering of freckles. She couldn't see any traces of her past in her appearance.

_Glass shattering. Her mother, stumbling into the room with a bloody hand to her stomach._ 'I love you'_ forming on her lips before she collapses. Dead._

Clary gasped and stumbled away from the window, knocking over the desk in the process. Luckily, the chatter in the room was so loud that no one noticed her. Except...

A pair of golden eyes locked onto her green ones. His stare was unwavering. Crap. He was the same boy that saw her throwing knives in her back yard. He wore the same smirk, but she could see that it was forced. Clary walked up slowly to the boy, grabbed his shirt, and said: "You tell anyone what you saw the other day, and you're dead."

"Wait." He grabbed her arm as she walked away. She met his gaze with the same intensity. "What?" She pulled her arm out of his grasp. He looked as if he was going to ask why.

"You stretched out my shirt, Red." Was all he said. Clary flipped him off and walked away, leaving Jace behind. A smirk formed on his face, but this time, it wasn't forced. He watched as she sat in the far back corner and take out a sketchbook. Her fingers moved rapidly to fill the page with charcoal marks. Her green eyes were filled with concentration.

_I like that girl_, he decided.

* * *

"Hey, Clare!" Clary balanced her lunch tray evenly in her hands. She padded carefully to Simon, who was waving his hands frantically. He was sitting with Maia and another girl. The girl had ink black hair that reached her waist and charcoal black eyes. "Geez, Si," Clary said. "Must you always make an ass out of yourself?" Simon rolled his eyes. "Clary, that's Isabelle."

"I know." Clary sat next to Simon, across from Isabelle. "She's in my English class, along with her brother. Jace, right?"

"The one and only," Isabelle said sarcastically. Clary picked a fry off of her tray. "Sorry to say this, but your brother is an ass."

"Oh, I know." Isabelle smirked. "I do live with him, you know." "I'm sorry," said Clary. Isabelle laughed and took an apple out of her bag. She took a bite, somehow managing not to drip juice everywhere. "You and me both...Clary, is it?"

"Yup." Clary finished off her fries and looked at Simon. "Where's your food, Lewis?"

He shrugged and reached across the table to take one of Maia's carrots. "Vegetarian, remember?"

"So get a salad, stupid." Clary rolled her eyes.

"They all have chicken in them." Simon made a face in disgust. "Whatever," Clary muttered. "Starve. See if I care."

It was at that moment that Jace Lightwood decided to make an appearance. He was holding a brown paper bag and his backpack was slung casually over one shoulder. "Hey, Iz," he said to his sister. "What do you want, Jace?"

"Just letting you know that you need to catch a ride with someone else today." Jace stuck his thumbs in his pockets. "I'll be doing...things...today and I need to use the car."

"Fine but you're paying for the sex stains," Isabelle said. "And I don't want to get it detailed again so keep the pot outside of the car." Jace smirked. "No promises, baby sister." He turned to walk away. "Later, Iz. Red."

Clary glared at the golden curls on the back of Jace's head as he walked away. She hated his confident smirk and his sex smile. She hated the fact that he could get any girl with just one look. She was confident that she hated him. "You're right, Clary," said Simon. "He is an ass."

But then why was she so intrigued by him?

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**I know that was very...bland...but Im trying to make it interesting in the next chapter!(Yes, Clary likes calling people 'ass'. It's just part of her...charm) **

**REVIEW. A RAINBOW UNICORN TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWS. **


	3. Painting Flowers

**A/N: Thanks to all who read A Great Golf Expedition. It really means a lot to me. I took out the previous Authors note. I'm sorry that this chapter is really short. I got stuck quite a few times when writing this chapter. **

**Enjoy. **

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_Strange maze, what is this place?  
I hear voices over my shoulder,  
Nothing's making sense at all.  
Wonder, why do we race?  
When everyday we're runnin' in circles,  
Such a funny way to fall.  
Tried to open up my eyes,  
I'm hopin' for a chance to make it alright.  
- Painting Flowers, _All Time Low

* * *

**Chapter 3: Painting Flowers**

_I am tortured my the screams. The pain. Whenever I close my eyes at night, I see my mother. I see the life draining out of her green eyes. I hear her voice, hoarse and quiet like a ghost, whispering the words I always think she says up in heaven. "I would have lived of you were there," she says. "If you weren't afraid, I'd be alive. I'm dead because of you."_

Clary stowed her journal away in her faded green messenger bag. It was last period, study hall, a time that she usually left school for. But she was the only one who could drive Isabelle home from school since Jace bailed and Simon and Maia had some after school "geek club," as Clary called it.

Clary immediately got up from her desk as the bell rang and went to her locker, where Isabelle was waiting. "Hey, Clary!" Isabelle said brightly as the other girl approached her. "Ready to go?"

Clary took out her text books and slammed her locker shut. "Yeah, come on." She led Isabelle to her black corvette. Isabelle whistled appreciatively.

"What do your parents do for a living, again?" Isabelle asked.

"My dad owns a book store," said Clary. Isabelle opened her door and threw her purse in. "And your mom?"

"Well," Clary said, "my mom and dad are dead. My adoptive dad is the one who owns a book store. The CEO of Barnes and Nobles wants to buy it and make my dad a manager, but my dad doesn't want to give it up."

"Oh." They fell silent as Clary pulled out of the parking lot. She honked impatiently at the unmoving car in front of them. "So, what's Jace up to?" Clary asked suddenly.

Isabelle smirked. "Why?"

Clary shrugged. "Curiosity. Boredom."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Clary."

"Yeah, well, boredom made the cat go on a rampage and destroy a village," Clary responded.

Isabelle sighed and said: "He's probably out ruining himself."

"How?"

It was Isabelle's turn to shrug. "Getting high, drunk, taking another poor girl's virginity."

"Why is he like this?" asked Clary.

Isabelle hesitated. "His past isn't too great," she said slowly.

Clary laughed humorlessly. Her green eyes sparked with cold amusement. "Who's is? I'd like to meet them."

"Yeah, but his was horrible. No one should ever go through what he did."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I've had a pretty shitty past too. I'm over it, though." The lie tasted bitter in her mouth. She knew that she wasn't over her past, but it couldn't be better than Jace's.

Clary doubted that Jace watched his parents died right in front of him.

* * *

Clary let the door slam behind her. "Clary, is that you?"

Luke Garroway stood in the doorway. His mousy brown hair streaked with gray was combed neatly back. He wore a white collard shirt instead of his usual flannel shirt and his usually jean clad legs were covered in black dress pants.

"You look good," said Clary. "Date?"

"Yes," her step-father said tiredly. "With the CEO of Barnes and Nobles."

"You're not going to give in, are you?" she said seriously.

Luke shrugged and ruffled her hair. "We'll see. It's a great privilege. Can you watch the store while I'm gone?"

"Sure." Luke smiled and walked past her. "I'll be back by seven-thirty."

Clary sighed and lugged her messenger bag to the bookstore.

* * *

In the end, Clary sat with her feet propped up on the table reading a comic book. She didn't really notice that there was another person in the store until he was right in front of her, tapping his scarred knuckles against the wood countertop. She looked up at the impatient customer, prepared to smile and say her usual line: "Welcome to Garroway's books, may I help you?" But instead she scowled.

Jace Lightwood stood in front of her. Two used calculus textbooks were tucked under his arm. "What do you want, golden-ass?"

"Golden-ass?" he said with an amused smile. "Never heard that one before."

She sighed and took the books from him. "Must you always find amusement in everything I say?"

He chuckled and leaned forward. His suede-clad forearms pressed against the countertop. "Well, everything you say is amusing, Red." He handed her a credit card. She swiped it and handed him the receipt. "Can't you think of anything more creative than 'Red?' Honestly. If you're going to insult me, make it creative."

He smirked challengingly. "Duly noted, Fireball."

Clary scowled.

* * *

Red.

It was everywhere. Flitting across the streets of Manhattan, burning into the back of his mind. Jace closed his eyes tightly and wished for another color to come to mind. Someone heard his plea and sent green. He scowled and tried think of another color. Purple, blue, hell, even pink was better than thinking about her. There was just something about her mesmerizing green eyes and flame colored hair. He walked grisly forward. The night air cut through his thin button down shirt, but he didn't care. Hell could freeze over for all he, Jace Lightwood, cared. It was silent. But then "Material Girl" cut through the night's silence. Pedestrians looked over at him. The flush on the top of his cheekbones was unmistakable as he cursed his sister and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"_Jace_?"

"No," he said sarcastically. "This is Mc Donald's. We're closed. Call back _never_."

"Jace." Isabelle's voice was sharp. "_Get your ass back home now_."

"Nope." He flicked a stray thread from his shirt cuff.

"_Jace, please. Max keeps asking for you._"

He sighed. "Fine. I'll be home soon."

"_Great. Oh and Jace?_" She paused. Jace could practically see her grin. "_How do you like your new ring tone_?"

"_Goodbye_, Isabelle." He pressed the end call button.

* * *

**Yes, I know it was short. I'll try to hurry up with an update. Thanks for reading!**


	4. The Outside

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait. You have no idea how hard it was to find a chapter song for this. **

**I REPLACED THE AUTHOR'S NOTE WITH CHAPTER THREE SO READ THAT FIRST!**

**I do not own "Fire and Ice" by Robert Frost or "The Outside" by Taylor Swift**

**here it is, guys. Enjoy ;)**

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_"I didn't know what I would find_  
_When I went looking for a reason, I know_  
_I didn't read between the lines_  
_And, baby, I've got nowhere to go_  
_I tried to take the road less traveled by_  
_But nothing seems to work the first few times_  
_-The Outside,_Taylor Swift

**Chapter 4: The Outside**

_"Hey, this is Jonathan Morgenstern. Please leave a message."_  
Clary sighed as she the tone beeped once again in her ear. Her brother hadn't called for a while.  
Jonathan Morgenstern was Clary's twenty-four-year-old brother. When their parents divorced, he went to live with their father. But when Valentine died, he went to live with their aunt. After college, Jonathan became a semi-successful lawyer three years back. Since then, Clary hadn't seen him, but he usually called once a month.  
She hung up when Maia Roberts ran up to her. Her eyes were shining with excitement and disbelief. "Clary, Clary, Clary, Clary!"  
"Maia, Maia, Maia, Maia!" Clary imitated her. Maia scowled before continuing. "Guess who asked me to the dance?"  
"Barney...?" Clary guessed.  
"Jordan Kyle!" Maia squealed. Clary winced and clutched her ear.  
"Ouch, Mai. My ears."  
"Oh, shut up," she said half-heartedly. "We need to go dress shopping!"  
"Since when do you wear dresses?" Clary smirked. Maia hit Clary on the back of her head. "Ow!"  
"You deserved that." Isabelle sauntered up to them.  
"Hey, guys! 'Sup?"  
Clary said: "Nothing much." While Maia said: "Jordan Kyle asked me to the dance!"  
Isabelle and Maia squealed. Clary winced again. "What is with you two and squealing today?"  
Isabelle looked at the other girl. "Why aren't you squealing?"  
"Because I am not going, therefore not excited." Isabelle's jaw visibly dropped.  
"Why?"  
Clary shrugged. "I'm not that social, in case you haven't noticed."  
Isabelle opened her mouth to say something but Maia cut her off. "Don't," she said. "I've tried for three years. But she is going dress shopping with me."  
Clary froze. "Wait, what?"  
Isabelle clapped her hands excitedly. "Ooh. Can I come?"  
"Sure." The shrill noise of the bell echoed throughout the almost empty hallways. "I'll see you later," Clary said as she scooped up her books.  
The two girls nodded and went their separate ways.

* * *

"How's this?" Isabelle twirled around in a blood red dress. It had spaghetti straps and fell around her mid-thigh. The fabric was flush against her skin and flowed out from her hips. Clary looked at her calculatingly. "It looks nice," she said sincerely.

Isabelle studied herself in the mirror. "I like it," she decided.  
Clary sighed somewhat frustratedly and resumed her texting conversation with Simon.

_God, Izzy and Maia are driving me up the wall._

_**Better you than me, my midget friend. ;)**_

_*rolls eyes* thaaaanks. Love you too, Simon. Speaking of homecoming, are you going with your band or are you asking someone._

_**I'm thinking of asking someone**._

_*GASP*_

_**Aw, shaddup, Fray**._

_Who's the lucky girl?_

_**I'm not telling you. ;)**_

_Yyyyyy?_

_**Cuz you'll laugh.**_

_Probably. Spill, Lewis._

_**Fine. It's Isabelle**._

Clary looked up from her phone and stared wide-eyed at Isabelle, who was still gazing at her reflection, tugging on the red fabric of her dress. "What?" she asked when she saw Clary staring at her  
"Nothing," Clary said quickly.

_**Fray, you still there?**_

_Yeah, sorry. I dropped the phone cuz I was laughing so hard. XD_

_**Oh, haha. Funny. Gtg. Band practice is starting up. L8tr.**_

Clary flicked her cell phone shut and stuffed it in her pockets while smiling smugly. Maia stepped out of the dressing room. "How's this?" She spun around.  
The silk, orange dress clung to her curvy figure. It highlighted the brown in her eyes and her caramel-colored skin. "I love it," said Isabelle.  
Clary nodded in agreement. She stood up, pulling her messenger bag with her. "So are we going or what?"

* * *

_"Some say the world will end in fire,  
Some say in ice.  
From what I've tasted of desire,  
I hold with those who favor fire.  
But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate  
To say that for the destruction,  
Ice is also great,  
And would suffice."_

Clary tapped her pencil against her chin subconsciously. Her classmates were out getting drunk at homecoming, she was doing English homework. She would be laughing tomorrow as Isabelle, Maia, and Simon struggled to finish their homework while having a hangover.  
She put her pencil to the paper and started writing.  
In the poem, the poet is trying to convey—  
She threw the pencil down in frustration, earning a disapproving look from the librarian. The elderly woman glared at her before continuing to stack her books. She could sense someone pulling out a chair and taking a seat next to her. "Well, that's no way to treat a pencil."  
Clary didn't need to turn around to know who it was. "Jace Lightwood. What are you doing here?"  
He held his book up to her. It was a collection of Robert Frost poems. "Doing my English homework, for one."  
Clary stuck her paper into her book. "Why aren't you at the dance?"  
Jace shrugged. "Not really my scene."  
"What is?"  
"My room."  
Clary rolled her eyes. "Profound." She stood up to leave. Jace caught her hand. "Where are you going?"  
"Home," she said. "It's late."  
Jace laughed. "Fireball, it's only eight."  
She yanked her hand away and slipped on her coat. "Could you stop with the redhead jokes?They're getting old."  
Jace ignored her and continued to speak. "The night is still young." He stood up. "Come on. Let's go."  
"Yes, I was planning to," said Clary.  
He chucked softly. "I meant, come with me."  
She scoffed. "Yeah, that's going to happen." She watched in amusement as Jace ran a hand through his unruly gold curls. "Why are you so reluctant to come with me?" he asked frustratedly.  
"Why are you so hell-bent on getting me to come with you?" Clary pointed out.  
"Maybe because you hang around my house 24/7 and I have no idea who you are," he said.  
"Fine," she said, defeated. "I'll come with you."  
A smiled tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I knew you would, Fireball."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated!**


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